


Zombie

by thesaddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crack, Detroit Red Wings, M/M, Minor Character Death, Silly, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-09
Updated: 2008-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It isn't easy being Henrik Zetterberg's teammate.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombie

**Author's Note:**

> Utter overwrought crack for the "Music is My Boyfriend" meme. Unbeta'd. I wish this place had a category for zombie-related violence.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

It isn't easy being Henrik Zetterberg's teammate. It's not that he's a puckhog, or doesn't do his job on the defensive end. Hank is an exceptional teammate - he makes everyone around him a better player.

The problem isn't so much Hank as a player or even as a person. He was intelligent, well-spoken and friendly. He's never been in any sort of legal trouble, and as far as anyone knows, he has no secret love children or mistresses stashed away in other states. There's nothing to complain about there.

The problem is - well.

"Hank, no!" Babcock has a broken piece of hockey stick in his hands, and he's waving it in front of himself, trying to fend Hank off.

Hank lurches forward, arms out, fingers curled. "Hungry," Hank says, tonelessly.

Marian hides in his locker stall, watching the exchange from its safe confines. His eyes fall on the limp body of the team trainer, lying in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood.

His throat has been ripped out.

Hank continues to advance on the coach, his arms out. Blood drips from his curled fingers onto the carpet. The blood-soaked carpet makes squishing noises underfoot as Hank continues to advance.

"No!" Babcock takes a swing at Hank with the broken hockey stick.

Marian covers his face with his hands. He can't bear to watch anymore. The soulless look in Hank's eyes is a far cry from the kind, loving look that had been in them the night before.

-

Marian curled up next to Hank in bed. He loved watching him sleep. There was just something about watching the person you loved when they weren't aware of it that made Marian feel special, like he was the only person in the world.

He traced his fingertips on Hank's bare chest, writing out invisible words on his skin. 'Marian loves Hank.' 'Marian + Hank forever.' 'Hank is a special, unique snowflake.'

Hank didn't stir.

His skin was so waxy and cool to the touch! Marian could hardly believe it, since they had a roaring fire in the fireplace, and were bundled up in thick woolen blankets. Plus, they had just had a lot of sex a mere handful of minutes before.

Marian propped himself up on his elbow and dragged his fingertips down Hank's naked chest. "Hank?" he said.

Hank didn't respond. He was lying in bed as stiff as a board.

Marian sighed and began to rub Hank's arms, trying to work out the tension. "You're awfully tense," Marian said, ducking his head and pressing his mouth to the side of Hank's neck.

Hank didn't respond.

"Well, if you're going to be like that." Marian sat up and got out from under the covers. He slid his feet into his slippers and padded across the room for the door. "I'm going to get something to drink. You want anything?"

Hank's silence was ponderous.

"Okay, fine." Marian exited the bedroom in a huff.

-

Babcock's body lies in a broken heap on the floor, his neck at a jagged angle. All pandemonium has broken loose. Players are scrambling like rats in a maze, unable to get out of their own way, as Hank licks the coach's blood from his hands.

"We're all gonna die!" Chris Osgood screams.

Marian pokes his head out of his locker in time to see Hank lunge forward and grab Osgood. There is a sickening _crack_ , and then Osgood too falls to the ground. Hank hunches over his feast, eating greedily.

Marian gulps back a frightened sob. _What if I'm next?_ he wonders. He can taste the acrid fear at the back of his throat.

Hank looks up from Osgood's corpse and locks eyes with Marian. His dead-eyed gaze penetrates deep into Marian's soul, and he feels sick to his stomach. Blood is smeared across Hank's face. His once-friendly face is a twisted, unrecognizable deathmask.

 _He saw me!_ Marian wants to duck back into the safety of his locker, but something holds him in place. Marian has been paralyzed by his own fear.

-

When Marian came back to the bedroom, Hank was sitting up and flipping through a newspaper. He looked better; the color had just started to come back to his face.

"You feeling better?" Marian settled next to Hank in bed and opened his beer.

Hank grunted. "Hungry."

"It's pretty late," Marian said.

"Hungry!" Hank yelled.

"Okay, okay. Jeez. We can hit up a Taco Bell if you want," Marian said, sipping his beer. "No need to get pissy."

"Hungry. Now," Hank demanded in a lifeless monotone.

Marian glanced over at Hank and smiled. Hank didn't smile back. Marian felt his spirits flag just a touch. He turned his attention back to his beer. "Let's get dressed first," he muttered into his beer bottle.

Hank got out of the bed and lurched to the closet. He threw open the closet doors and started tearing clothes off the hangers. Expensive clothes! Marian jumped out of bed, beer spilling into the plush carpet. It made wet squishy noises as Marian padded over to Hank's side.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, pulling an armful of Lacoste shirts out of Hank's grip.

"Clothes," Hank said. "Dress. For Taco Bell."

"Okay. But - nevermind." Marian shook his head, dumping the shirts on the floor. "You must've gotten hit harder than I thought the other night in Edmonton."

Hank pulled a shirt of silky, see-through material off one of the hangers and slipped it on. "Dressed now. We go."

"Uh, you need pants." Marian picked up a pair of jeans and held them out, but Hank waved him off.

"Me dress self." He began digging through the piles of clothes.

Marian sighed.

-

Hank wraps his fingers, still slick with Osgood's blood, around Marian's throat and begins to throttle him, teeth bared in a feral sneer.

"Hank, no! Stop!" Marian wails, trying to push him away to no avail.

Hank pulls Marian in close, and he can feel Hank's hot breath curling against his neck.

"Hungry!" Hank moans.

"No, Hank, please. I love you!" Marian cries, his knees buckling. He's growing weak, so weak. Hank is cutting off his circulation. It will be only a matter of seconds before he loses consciousness and then he will end up his former lover's dinner.

Hank rubs his nose against Marian's neck, sniffing at him. "Mmm. Good." Hank opens his mouth, preparing to bite down on Marian's neck.

Marian looks up at Hank, eyelids fluttering. His entire life begins to flash in front of his eyes as if he's watching a movie that's being fast-forwarded. He sees himself skating on a homemade rink in his motherland, then he sees himself in Ottawa, playing with Martin Havlat, and then Atlanta with Ilya, Pittsburgh with Sidney. Finally, Detroit with Hank.

Suddenly, the pressure on his neck releases and Marian sucks in a big breath. He sits up, gasping for breath. Hank's fingers are still wrapped around his throat but Hank - Hank is _dead_!

"Hank? Hank!" Marian cries, shaking him.

"Marian?"

Marian shoves Hank's corpse off of him and jumps to his feet. "Sidney, what are you doing here?" he cries.

Sidney has an ax in his hands. The ax blade is buried snugly in the back of Hank's head. "I heard you were in trouble," Sidney says, dropping the handle of the ax and rushing into Marian's arms. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

Marian and Sidney embrace passionately. "It was so terrible," Marian sobs.

"I'm here, my love," Sidney cooes, stroking Marian's cheek lovingly. "Let's get out of here."

"What about my teammates?" Marian asks.

"They're all dead," Sidney says with a shrug.

"Well, shit." Marian looks around, surveying the damage. "Let's go."

They leave.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
